


A Very Palpable Hit

by nomave



Category: due South
Genre: Gen, Major Character Injury
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-09-07
Updated: 2012-09-07
Packaged: 2017-11-13 18:04:12
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 11,502
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/506229
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nomave/pseuds/nomave
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>This story is set between Juliet is Bleeding and One Good Man, and speculates on how Fraser and Ray got past the issues raised between the two of them in JiB. </p>
<p>Fraser is forced to liaise with the Chicago PD on a case involving the abduction of a Canadian citizen, despite the antipathy the 27th feels towards him following his contribution to the release of Frank Zuko. With Ray Vecchio not talking to him, Fraser starts to investigate on his own, putting himself unwittingly in danger. Will Ray find the Mountie in time, and more importantly repair their friendship?</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Very Palpable Hit

“You know the first time I ever danced with her was in PE class. She kept trying to lead. I finally had to ask her to relax, that it would be okay, just put your head on my shoulder and close your eyes. Everything's going to be okay.”   
Fraser sat for a long time with Ray in the hospital waiting room, sometimes in silence, sometimes listening to his friend talk about Irene. He wasn’t entirely sure Ray knew he was there, or if it even mattered to Ray who he was talking to. Ray was just staring straight ahead, speaking in a monotone. Finally, Fraser saw that the press corps, who had been camped outside the doors, had dissipated.  
“Come on, Ray,” he said, “Let’s get you home.”  
Ray finally looked at him then, and blinked, as if he wasn’t sure where he was.  
“You can’t stay here, Ray.”  
Ray nodded and let Fraser lead him out of the hospital. A cab had just arrived to deposit a visitor – Fraser hailed it and the two men got in.   
“2926 North Octavia, please.”  
The taxi trip was made in silence. Ray had lapsed back into a dazed reverie, and Fraser wasn’t quite sure what to say, or what it was appropriate to say. He’d never been good at dealing with emotional situations – there was no training for it. He also wasn’t sure whether or not Ray was still angry at him – he hadn’t seemed to be at the hospital, seemed to have accepted that what had happened was an accident, but he’d been so upset earlier that Fraser was hesitant about saying too much, just in case.  
Fraser’s thoughts were interrupted as they pulled up outside the Vecchio home, “Could you wait please?” he asked the driver.  
Fraser escorted Ray to his front door. Ray didn’t make any move to get out his keys. It was very late, and Fraser was worried about waking the household if he knocked. As they got to the door, however, it flew open and Ray’s mother appeared in the doorway. “Raimondo – we heard about Irene. Come inside.” She put her arm around her son and Ray obediently let himself be led in, still not speaking. Mrs Vecchio turned her head to look at the Mountie, “Thank you for bringing him home,” she said, “I will look after him.”  
Fraser nodded, “Good night Mrs Vecchio. Good night Ray.” He turned and went back to the cab.

Fraser sat at his desk at the Consulate and sighed, realising he had read the paragraph in front of him five times and still hadn’t taken it in. His mind was elsewhere. He glanced at his watch, but it was still only 3 o’clock.  
It had been a week since the events that had ended the life of Irene Zuko, and a week since he’d spoken to Ray. He’d deliberately stayed away at first, figuring that if Ray wanted to talk to him, then he knew where to find him. Surely Ray would know that Fraser wouldn’t hold a grudge about anything that had been said in the heat of the moment? Now Fraser wasn’t so sure whether he shouldn’t have at least checked to find out how Ray was coping. Perhaps he should phone Ray, or stop by his house? Going to the precinct was out of the question at the moment, given how the Chicago cops had reacted to the news that Frank Zuko was being set free on evidence found by Fraser. Fraser sighed again – almost two years ago he’d made himself unpopular with the police force he officially served, and now he appeared to have made himself equally unpopular with the one he unofficially served. Why was his sense of justice so misunderstood by his fellow officers? Was it a flaw in his upbringing? Would this be the pattern of his life from now on? He wished he had someone to talk to about this, but the person he normally would have talked to – Ray – didn’t appear to want to have any contact with him at the moment. He really should bite the bullet and make the first move.  
Fraser picked up the phone and dialled Ray’s cell phone number. There was no answer – it was turned off. Fraser frowned. Ray’s phone was usually on twenty four hours a day. Nervously, he dialled the Vecchio’s home number.   
“Hello?”   
“Ah, hello Francesca, I was just, um…is Ray available?”  
“Fraser, I’m sorry, he’s already left for the church.”  
“The church?”  
“It’s Irene’s funeral today.”  
Fraser was mortified, “Oh, I’m sorry Francesca. I didn’t realise. Do pardon me for intruding.”  
“I’ll tell Ray you called.”  
“That’s not necessary Francesca. I’ll phone again some other time.”  
“It’s no trouble Fraze. I’ll let him know”  
“Yes…alright. Thank you Francesca.”  
“Hey, it’s really no problem,” her tone changed from being reasonably businesslike to a soft purr, “You should come round some time.”  
“Oh, um, I don’t….I really should go now. Thank you Francesca.”   
“Bye Benton.”  
“Goodbye.” Fraser put the phone down. Irene’s funeral. He should have checked. That was thoughtless of him. Sighing once again, he tried to turn his attention back to his paperwork. 

Fraser arrived home early, having finally given up his attempt to work at 4 o’clock. He observed that Diefenbaker was absent from the apartment – obviously not expecting him to be home at this time. He busied himself with putting away the groceries he had bought. He was just putting the last tin in the cupboard when he was startled by the door opening.   
“Ray!” Fraser was initially happy to see his friend, but his joy was short-lived, when he saw Ray’s face. He was looking angry. “Ray?” he said again, a little more uncertainly, moving through to the living area. Ray followed. He still hadn’t spoken.  
Fraser wasn’t sure what to say, “Um, I called your house earlier, Ray. Francesca told me about the funeral.”  
“Yeah, she told me.” Ray was looking at Fraser with an odd expression, that wasn’t quite friendly, “Why didn’t you back me up over Zuko, Benny?”  
“I don’t understand, Ray. You know Zuko was not responsible for planting the bomb.”  
“Don’t play dumb with me, Fraser! You know exactly what I mean! I had Zuko in custody, he was going to finally pay for everything he’d done. But no, you had to interfere. You had to make sure ‘justice’,” Ray snarled the word, “was served, regardless of the consequences. It’s like it’s your God or something. And you know what really makes me angry? You owe me, and you didn’t come through for me!”  
Fraser was taken aback, “I owe you?”  
Ray explained, “Six months ago I laid my career on the line to cover up for your little mistake, didn’t I? I knew you were running after that train to go with Victoria, but I told Welsh that you were trying to catch her and bring her in - I even put it in my report. I covered for you, damn it – but did you cover for me here? No. All I got was a Mountie who had to do the ‘right thing’, regardless of the fact that he was betraying his best friend.”  
The mention of Victoria provoked feelings in Fraser that he didn’t particularly care to analyse. They’d never discussed it, but he’d always known that Ray must have smoothed over what Fraser had done that evening. After the shooting he’d been so caught up in his own emotions, and so uninterested in the outside world, that he’d just accepted that he appeared to have escaped the tangible consequences of his actions. Until now. He certainly hadn’t realised that Ray thought Fraser owed him something as a result. Now he stood staring at Ray, shocked at the turn of events. Finally, finding his voice, Fraser explained patiently, “Frank Zuko was innocent of the crimes he had been charged with, Ray. I know that you, and all the other detectives, are angry that I facilitated his release, but we might never have found the real murderer if that hadn’t happened, and an innocent man would have gone to jail, and that was wrong.” Fraser paused, concerned at Ray’s renewed anger, “I thought you’d accepted that,” he added quietly.  
“Oh, I know you were right. You’re always right. But you know, that doesn’t change the fact that this time it didn’t all work out in the end. This time someone got hurt – someone innocent – and you did it!”  
“I hurt someone?” Fraser was genuinely puzzled. He felt like he’d missed part of the conversation.   
“I was standing in that church today, looking at a box containing the woman I’ve loved since high school, and I thought, yeah, it was an accident, but even accidents have a cause, and in this case that cause was you.”  
Ray was pacing up and down now, his anger brewing with the action. He stepped right up in front of Fraser and pointed at the Mountie’s chest “It comes down to this Fraser - if you hadn’t interfered and got Zuko off, if you’d backed me up in the first place, we wouldn’t have been at the house, he wouldn’t have pulled a gun, and she wouldn’t have died. That’s why I blame you.” The last words were delivered quite forcefully.   
It was the second time in a fortnight Ray had practically shouted in Fraser’s face, and he didn’t like it any better the second time. Fraser felt a mix of emotions, mostly hurt, but also part surprise at Ray’s logic, “That’s not fair, Ray.”  
“Not fair!” Ray’s decibel level rose higher, “It’s not fair that her life was taken away and that her brother, who’s involved in all sorts of dirty stuff, was spared? How is that fair?”  
Fraser had never liked confrontation. He even avoided it in the line of duty if possible, and this particular confrontation was upsetting him. He could understand Ray’s anger – he’d felt a certain animosity towards Ray in the wake of Victoria - but the strength of Ray’s hostility was actually scaring him a little. He had to get Ray to talk about this rationally, “Ray, please calm down.”  
“Don’t tell me to calm down – I don’t want to calm down.” Why was the Mountie being so damn unruffled when he shouting in his face? What was wrong with him?  
“Ray, this isn’t helping. It won’t bring her back. The anger won’t help.”  
“What would you know about anger? You never get angry about anything.”  
“That’s not true.”  
“Then why don’t you show it?”  
Fraser didn’t know how to answer.   
“Show something. Anything! You’re like a damn machine! Sometimes that calm, accepting expression drives me up the wall. Have you actually stopped to consider that other people might have feelings, even if you don’t?”  
“I do have feelings, Ray, you know I do, and I don’t understand what you’re getting at.”  
“What I’m getting at is that when you went on your little crusade, you didn’t stop to think what the outcome might be. You never do.”  
“Ray, there was no way I could have anticipated what happened. And in any case, it was you who rushed in and…” Fraser stopped – that was definitely not the right thing to say, and certainly was not going to placate his friend.  
“So now you’re saying it’s my fault?”  
“No. I’m saying it wasn’t anybody’s fault – you were right when you said at the hospital that it was an accident. I’m sorry about Irene, Ray.”  
“Oh, are you?” Ray’s tone was contemptuous, “You didn’t even know her.”  
“No, but I know you cared about her, and that’s enough to make me sorry.”  
“Like that helps.”  
“Ray, please – if we can just talk about this rationally.”  
“Rationally!” Fraser had thought Ray was getting calmer, but clearly he had been mistaken, as he started to yell again, “Have you ever listened to yourself?!”  
“Ray, please, shouting about it really isn’t going to help. Now just calm down and…”   
“Stop telling me to calm down!”   
Afterwards, Ray couldn’t remember the punch. All he knew was that one moment he was shouting, and the next minute he saw Fraser stagger backward from the force of a blow for which he had been completely unprepared. The Mountie caught his heel on the edge of the rug and, already off balance, fell hard, landing on his side.   
Supporting himself on one arm, he stared at his friend, taking in the rage evident on Ray’s face. He couldn’t understand how the situation had deteriorated so quickly or why Ray had felt the need to hit him – they’d argued before, but it had never come to blows. They’d always talked things out. His failure to support Ray, and repay the debt he hadn’t realised existed, had obviously irreparably damaged their friendship.  
Ray stared back at Fraser, his brain still assimilating what had just occurred. The Mountie’s astonished and hurt expression reminded him of a child who’d been hit by his father.  
The thought hit Ray like a mental blow, and he felt suddenly sick in the realisation that he’d just reacted to a confrontation in a way he’d always told himself he wouldn’t react – his father’s way. What had he done? Why had he done it? Suddenly he couldn’t stay in the apartment any longer. He turned and walked out the door, down the stairs and out to the car he’d borrowed from the motor pool. He sat in the vehicle for several minutes, replaying the scene over and over in his head, unable to believe what he’d done. He drove home in a daze.

Upstairs in apartment 3J, Fraser was still on the floor. He couldn’t quite comprehend what had happened. He was briefly startled by Diefenbaker coming in through the open window. The wolf whined as he saw Fraser lying uncomfortably on the rug and came over to lick his master’s face.  
“It’s okay, boy. It was Ray, but I’m sure he didn’t mean it.”  
Fraser wasn’t actually sure if that statement was correct. Ray’s fist had hit him with enough force to feel like it meant it. He still wasn’t entirely sure exactly what he’d said to prompt the blow, but whatever it was, he clearly should have chosen his words more carefully. Fraser picked himself up off the floor and went over to the small mirror hanging on the wall. The area around his left eye was already beginning to redden and swell, to the extent that he couldn’t keep the eyelid fully open without pain. In fact it hurt quite a lot. Sighing, Fraser went to the fridge and fetched some ice from the freezer section. He wrapped it in a plastic bag, then went to lie on the bed with the ice bag held to his eye. He needed to think. 

“Ray? Ray? Are you okay?”   
Startled, Ray looked up to see Francesca tapping on the window of his car. He was parked in the driveway outside his house, but couldn’t even remember arriving.   
“Ray?” Frannie said again. She came round to the passenger side and climbed in, “Has something happened? I mean, other than Irene…”  
Ray hesitated. Did he really want to confide in his sister? His sister who couldn’t keep a secret if her life depended on it? On the other hand, maybe talking would help sort out his thoughts. Or Frannie might kill him for hurting ‘her’ Mountie. “I’ve done something stupid,” he finally said.  
“How stupid?”   
“Frannie, do you remember when we were kids and Pop used to fly off the handle for no real reason?”  
“Like I’d forget that. You used to always make sure to get in his way when he tried to hit Maria and me.”  
“Yeah. Do you ever worry that you’ll end up like him?”  
“God, no. The only good thing that came from all that was that it taught us how not to behave,” she noticed that Ray had a funny expression on his face, “Why?” she asked cautiously.  
“I, um, hit someone I shouldn’t have. It just happened. I didn’t mean to do it.”  
“Was it a criminal? I don’t want to sound callous or anything, but I’m sure nobody will complain.”  
“It wasn’t a criminal, Frannie. I could deal with that. It was someone I shouldn’t have hit.”  
“Who?”   
Ray drew a deep breath, “Fraser.”  
He’d expected her to start screaming, but she just stared at him, disbelief etched on her features, “You hit Fraser?” she finally said, “Why?”  
“I don’t know. We were arguing about the whole Zuko thing, and all of a sudden I punched him. I don’t know where it came from,” Ray gave a barely perceptible shudder, “I don’t want to be like Pop, Frannie.”  
“Ray, you’re nothing like our father. Was he ever sorry for what he’d done? No. You’re obviously sorry. I’m sure Fraser will understand. Why don’t you go back and talk to him?”  
“I dunno, Frannie. The trouble is that I’m still kinda angry at him, even though I know I’m being unreasonable. I’m afraid if I go back, I’ll do something else stupid.”  
“Um, Ray, is Fraser okay?”  
“Yeah. He’ll probably have a bit of a shiner tomorrow, but he’s fine.” Ray forced a smile, “Look, can you go in and distract Ma, so I can go upstairs without her questioning me?”  
“Sure, Ray. Give me a couple of minutes.”

After a night during which he barely slept, Fraser slipped into the Consulate early the next morning, made his way to his office and closed the door behind him. He’d wanted to arrive before everyone else, hoping he would be able to avoid the others for at least part of the day. It was just as well he rarely had to stand guard duty any more, he mused, as his current appearance certainly would not project a good image of Canada. His eye was painful and he also had a bruise on his hip, from where he’d hit the floor, that hurt when he walked.   
His wish to be left alone was not to be fulfilled. Soon after 10am he was interrupted by a knock at the door, followed by Inspector Thatcher entering. Fraser scrambled to his feet and stood to attention.   
“At ease, Constable,” she said automatically, absorbed in the file she was reading. When she did look up, she gasped. She’d never seen a black eye quite so…black before. It was swollen enough that she could barely see half of the actual eye, and the skin was black and purple between eyebrow and cheekbone. “My god, what happened to you?”  
“Um, I’d rather not say, if you don’t mind, ma’am.”  
Thatcher felt a surge of exasperation, “Is this the result of one of your extra-curricular activities with Vecchio?”  
Fraser hesitated, “Indirectly ma’am, but it’s not, that is to say, it’s, ah, a personal matter.” He hoped the Inspector would accept that as an explanation.  
Fraser looked so uncomfortable with the discussion that she decided not to press him, but felt obliged to ask, “Can you actually see? Have you been to a doctor?”  
“Medical assistance was not necessary. Had my vision been compromised, I would of course have taken appropriate action, but apart from some loss of peripheral vision due to the swelling, my eyesight is unaffected.”  
“Do you need some time off?” she noticed now that he also looked a little pale and tired.  
“No ma’am. I would much prefer to be here.”  
He sounded sincere, so Thatcher pulled herself back to the reason she had come into the office, “There has been a report of a Canadian citizen being abducted,” she explained, “I’d like you to liaise, officially for once, with the police on the case. The little that we know so far is in this file, but Lieutenant Welsh apparently has some further details, so you’ll need to go over to the 27th to find out what action they’ve taken. He is expecting you.”  
For a moment Thatcher could have sworn she saw an expression of alarm cross Fraser’s features, but he masked it quickly.  
“Perhaps I will speak to Lt Welsh on the phone,” he suggested hesitantly.  
“I understand that he has some paperwork – witness statements and the like – that we will require copies of, so you’ll need to go in person.” Thatcher frowned, her curiosity roused, “You’re suddenly very reluctant to go and visit the 27th,” she commented.   
Fraser’s head dropped and he looked as if he was searching for the right words in the carpet. Eventually he settled for saying, “I’ll look over the file and then go and see Lieutenant Welsh. I will let you know any progress the police have made on my return”  
“Very well. I’ll see you in my office later.” Inspector Thatcher gave Fraser a last appraising look, and then turned on her heel and left the office.

As soon as he entered the police station Fraser could sense the hostile gazes of the people there. It seemed that his failure to support his fellow officers was not going to be forgiven quickly, regardless of the circumstances. He made his way upstairs, trying to ignore the posturing he was seeing, and paused for a moment to collect his thoughts before pushing through the doors into the detectives’ area. He kept his eyes focussed on his destination as he made his way to Welsh’s office, but knew that all the officers who were present were staring at him angrily. Fraser deliberately didn’t look towards Ray’s desk – even if Ray was there he wouldn’t want to talk to him. He knocked on Welsh’s door.  
Ray had seen Fraser enter and watched the Mountie walk towards the Lieutenant’s office. Fraser’s back was straight and posture perfect as usual but Ray thought he was walking a little stiffly. He doubted anyone else would notice, but he knew the Mountie well – well enough to also notice the ever so slight indications of apprehension on Fraser’s face. At that point, Ray’s gaze fixed on the Mountie’s eye, and he felt a surge of shame at the sight of the injury – he’d really hit Fraser hard.   
Fraser obviously wasn’t prepared to talk to him – he wouldn’t even look at him. Ray couldn’t blame him for that. After Fraser disappeared into Welsh’s office, Ray looked around and saw the eyes of his fellow detectives, filled with contempt, also fixed on the office door. Oh boy, Fraser was not popular. The Mountie had few people with whom he regularly associated, and it seemed a lot of them were giving him the cold shoulder.  
And now Ray had let him down as well, leaving him pretty much friendless in Chicago. Ray felt confused. He was still angry, but didn’t know whether he was angry at the Mountie, at himself, or life in general. Did he really think Fraser owed him some sort of debt? He wasn’t sure he hadn’t just been using that as an excuse to take out his anger on someone, anyone – and he’d chosen the person who probably least deserved to face that sort of wrath. The truth was that Fraser was usually there to back him up. Only recently he had got himself arrested and sent to prison in order to help Ray, and further in the past there was that business with Suzanne Chapin. And of course there was their earlier encounter with Frank Zuko – Fraser had unquestioningly supported Ray then, and had paid the price. Ray sighed and put his head in his hands. His brain was a whirl of questions, and he didn’t know the answers to any of them.

“Come in, Constable.” Welsh was reading some paperwork on his desk and didn’t immediately look at the Mountie. When he did, his reaction was similar to that of Inspector Thatcher, barely an hour earlier.  
“What the hell happened to you?”  
“I’d rather not say, Sir.” Fraser said, feeling a sense of déjà vu.  
Welsh gazed steadily at Fraser for several moments, but decided not to push it. He actually had a pretty good idea as to what might have happened. Vecchio had come into the office that morning looking like he hadn’t slept. He was even wearing the same clothes as the day before, uncharacteristically rumpled. Welsh had watched him sit at his desk, open a file and then stare into space. As far as Welsh could tell, he hadn’t actually done any work yet. One severely rattled Italian-American detective and a Mountie with a black eye added up to an explanation – of sorts.  
“Sir,” Fraser ventured, “the abduction case?”  
“Yes. We don’t know much yet – what you already know from the file is that Dudley Finch reported his wife missing yesterday afternoon. At first it just looked like a missing persons case, but then we got reports from witnesses to say they’d seen a woman matching Mrs Finch’s description being assaulted in an alley next to their apartment block and dragged off into a car.”  
Fraser nodded, “There’s still no indication of a reason for the kidnapping?”  
“No, still no motive. This morning we took witness statements from the two residents who saw the abduction, so we’ve now got a description of the car and of the abductors.” Welsh passed some papers over and Fraser glanced through them,  
“These descriptions don’t match,” he commented.   
“Do they ever match? Get four people to describe a person standing three feet in front of them and you’ll get four different descriptions. The car is apparently two different colours as well.”  
“May I ask to whom you are assigning this case?”  
Welsh hesitated. When the report had first come in and it was apparent that a Canadian citizen was involved, he had just assumed Vecchio would work on it with Fraser. He’d thought it might even take Vecchio’s mind off Irene Zuko. Clearly that was now impossible, and none of the other seasoned officers were likely to relish working with the Mountie at the moment. “Gage will be working on this.”  
“I don’t believe I know him.”  
“He’s new. Still a little wet behind the ears, but I’m sure he can handle it.” Welsh went to the window of his office and drew Fraser’s attention to a very young looking detective seated at one of the desk in the main office, “I don’t know how he’ll feel about you tagging along.”  
“That’s fine, Sir. I’m sure it will not be necessary for me to ‘tag along’, as you say. As long as the Consulate could be kept apprised of the progress of the investigation that should be sufficient.” Fraser didn’t feel like working with an officer other than Ray. It just wouldn’t be the same, “Obviously if Detective Gage requires any information from the Canadian authorities, he can reach me at the Consulate, and we will offer every assistance.”  
Welsh was a little surprised – normally the Mountie would want to be part of the case. Here was the perfect excuse to be officially involved, and he was turning it down. Obviously whatever had happened with Vecchio had really had an affect, “We’ll let you know if we find out anything.”  
“Thank you, Sir. I assume I can keep these statements?”  
“Yes, they’re copies.”  
“Thank you, Lieutenant. I’d best be getting back.” 

Ray watched Fraser make his way back through the squad room, again not looking at anyone. Nobody spoke to him either. Ray almost called out to him, but something held him back. He couldn’t be sure his approach would be welcomed.   
Was that really what was stopping him? Did he really think Fraser didn’t want to talk to him? Was he actually still angry at the Mountie over some unintended slight? Did he really blame him for Irene’s death? In proving Zuko’s innocence Fraser had just been doing the thing that made him Fraser – an imperative to find the truth behind any given situation. And he had been correct. Fraser had been right about Zuko, and he had also been right about something else. It had been Ray who had rushed into the Zuko home to rescue Irene and it was that which had precipitated Zuko pulling a gun. Ray had told Huey at the hospital, truthfully, that he believed the shooting was an accident, but then Irene’s funeral had brought all his earlier emotions back, and he had needed to find a scapegoat. The Mountie had seemed a good target for his rage, but the reason why was no longer clear to Ray. He had blamed Fraser, made up some excuse about the Mountie ‘owing him’, whereas he should have been blaming himself. All Fraser had done was to try and make him see sense at a time when Ray hadn’t wanted to listen to reason. He knew Fraser wouldn’t understand why Ray had hit him and was probably blaming himself. Trouble was that Ray was still not entirely sure himself what had prompted him to hit the Mountie. He’d been cross at him before, but it had never occurred to him to punch him instead of just arguing – so what had done it this time? Was it really just the emotion of the situation or was he channelling his father? Ray suppressed that thought – it didn’t even bear thinking about. What was clear was that he had been wrong. So should he apologise to Fraser now, or put some distance between the events of the last week and then try and make amends? Given his own still mixed up feelings, maybe the latter course would be better. He’d try and make it up to Fraser, but not yet. The wounds were still too raw. Yeah. Give it a couple of weeks, then he’d take Fraser some pizza or moose meat or something. Try and explain himself. Fraser would probably forgive him more quickly than he ought to, but that was Fraser. Better for them both to cool down a bit before trying to retrieve the friendship.

“Come in.” Fraser looked up from his desk to see Constable Turnbull enter.  
“This was dropped off for you by Detective Gage, Sir.”  
“Thank you Turnbull.”  
Turnbull turned and collided with Inspector Thatcher, who had approached the open door. “Turnbull!” she said, in an exasperated tone, “Watch where you’re going!”  
“Yes, ma’am. Sorry ma’am.” He shifted to let her into the office.  
“Get out, Turnbull.”  
“Yes, ma’am.”  
She waited for the bane of her life to depart, “What is the latest on the abduction, Constable?” she asked Fraser, who had risen to his feet.  
“I’m afraid there has still been no progress, Sir. There is no trace of Mrs Finch, there has been no ransom note, and no further evidence has come to light. Detective Gage has visited Mr Finch and the witnesses again. I was just about to look over the details of his report.”  
“It’s not good enough, is it Constable? A Canadian citizen has gone missing, her husband is demanding to know why the police have been unable to locate her, and Ottawa is asking us why no progress has been made.”  
“I’m sorry ma’am, but without any evidence…”  
“What’s wrong with you Constable? Normally you can’t wait to get out on the streets and compose some extravagant theory about a crime, but this time you don’t seem to be able to get your act together. I suggest you go over the reports again with a fine tooth comb and find something we – and the Chicago PD – can work with.” She turned on her heel and left the office.  
Fraser sat heavily in his chair. The Inspector was right, of course. He had been avoiding getting too involved in the case. He had spoken briefly to Mr Finch, the husband of the abducted woman, to assure him that the Canadian authorities were offering every support to the police, but other than that he had just looked over the information given to him by the investigating officer. Somehow it just didn’t seem the same without Ray. Well, he hadn’t seen or spoken to Ray in almost two weeks now. His physical bruises might have healed, but his emotional confusion over the incident was still very much present. Ray’s talk of Fraser owing him over the Victoria incident had disturbed him greatly, as had Ray’s illogical assertion that Fraser was to blame for Irene Zuko’s death. At first he had hoped Ray would come round and explain exactly what Fraser had done to cause him to act in so uncharacteristic a manner, but there had been no such visit. Perhaps he should have made the first approach himself, but it seemed a bit late for that now.   
Fraser had to admit that life had been pretty dull without the detective’s company. Consulate work was repetitive and did not fully occupy his time, and he realised now how much he had looked forward to the odd evening spent with a takeaway pizza and a little friendly banter. Frankly, he was lonely without the occasional company of his friend. Perhaps, Fraser thought, it was time he applied for a transfer back to Canada – odd though that would look, as he had turned down just such an opportunity only a few months previously.   
He suddenly realised that he had been caught up in his thoughts for some time. He really needed to pull himself together and start looking more closely at the abduction case. Opening the envelope of papers Turnbull had handed him earlier, he found new witness statements regarding the abduction and some extra forensic information that hadn’t been available earlier. He settled down to read.

Fraser was still examining the papers from the case a couple of hours later. There were a number of inconsistencies that he really should have spotted earlier. He chided himself for wallowing in his loneliness when he should have been paying attention to his work. There had always been a question mark over the fact that the two witnesses had given different descriptions of the kidnapping, but not only that, it now appeared that the old and new statements of both witnesses held significant differences. What was more, the witnesses seemed to be describing two completely different crime scenes. Frowning, Fraser took a piece of paper and began drawing two maps of the alley, as described by the witnesses. Both described a dumpster, into which the kidnapped woman had been putting rubbish at the time of the abduction, but in two different places. One said the car had been in the alley. The other that it was parked in the road, at the end of the alley. One said the kidnappers had dropped down from a fire escape, the other that they had emerged from a lane leading off the alley. They didn’t match in any major detail.  
Fraser looked at his watch. 7pm. It was really too late to call Gage and ask him about this. The detective probably dropped off the papers on his way home. Perhaps Lieutenant Welsh was still at work. Fraser sighed. Normally he’d just have called Ray and they’d have gone to investigate – probably with Ray complaining the whole time. Fraser smiled at the thought, then drew himself back to the present. What was stopping him going and looking for himself? He wasn’t going to talk to anyone, he just wanted to look over the scene. He was perfectly capable of checking a crime scene. In the Territories he’d almost always investigated on his own. And he would hardly be disturbing any evidence after all this time. Standing, he took his brown uniform jacket from the closet and his hat from the hat stand. Calling to Diefenbaker, he left the Consulate, leaving the papers on his desk so he could come back to them after he had made his investigation.

Although night had fallen, Fraser could make out what he needed to know, even in the dim light. He’d stopped in the apartment building in which the witnesses resided before proceeding to the alley. He had been surprised to find that one of the witnesses lived at the very front of the building, and on the top floor – their view of the crime would have been very poor. The other witness may have had a better view, but when he went into the alley, he saw that their window was heavily curtained – unless they’d just happened to look outside at the right moment they would have seen nothing. This was becoming more peculiar by the minute. One thing that immediately became clear was that there was no room for a car in the alley, or at least, not if people wanted to open the doors – essential in a kidnapping. The dumpster was stuck at the entrance to the alley, but Fraser did not consider this significant as it must have been emptied at least twice since the crime took place. He wondered why the kidnapping had supposedly taken place at the far end of the alley when the woman would have been depositing rubbish in a receptacle at the front. Perhaps the apartment block had another exit at the rear. Fraser proceeded to the end of the alley. There was indeed another lane at the back, but he couldn’t see any doors on that side of the building. What he did notice was that the fire escapes for both that building and the one for the block on the opposite side of the alley were at the back, so how could the witness have seen, from their side windows, anyone drop from a fire escape at the back of a building?   
Fraser was turning to make his way back to the main part of the alley when he heard a sound from behind him. As he was turning to see what it was, something dropped on him hard from above and he was knocked to the ground. He rolled, losing his hat in the process, and threw his assailant onto his side. Fraser jumped to his feet and ducked to avoid the knife that was being thrust towards him as his attacker also rose. He grabbed the wrist that held the weapon, becoming aware, as he did so, of someone else coming towards him from the other direction. Then he heard a growl and a yelp that told him that Dief was taking care of the second person, and from the corner of his eye saw the wolf chasing a man down the alley and into the street. Fraser twisted and managed to throw the man with the knife to the ground, realising as he did so that there was a third assailant behind him. He turned and delivered a punch to the man’s jaw before an attack could begin, but the aggressor was large and unfazed by the hit, so was coming at him again quickly. Fraser prepared to face the further assault.  
It was then that he felt a sudden excruciating pain in his side, and realised that the man with the knife had risen and attacked him from behind. Gasping involuntarily Fraser turned his head to see the figure of his assailant holding a long bladed knife covered in blood. Managing to spin himself round, Fraser grabbed for the man, but his strength was failing and he just ended up falling face first onto the asphalt. Dimly, he was aware of the sound of people running away. He tried to assess the extent of his injuries – the blade had obviously gone quite deep to hurt this much, and he could feel blood seeping from the wound. He tried to push himself up but barely made it to his knees before falling forward again.   
He wasn’t sure how long he lay there before a wet nose pushed into his face. Dief whined.   
Fraser focussed on the wolf, “Get help, Dief. Get….” He lost consciousness.

“Woah!”  
“What the hell…”  
“Isn’t that the Mountie’s dog?”  
Ray looked up from his desk, where he had been working late to catch up on his paperwork. He saw a whirlwind of fur making its way through the squad room towards him, “Hey Dief,” Ray felt strangely glad to see the wolf, “Is Fraser with you?” Dief whined and put his teeth around the sleeve of Ray’s jacket and pulled, “Hey, watch the clothes! This is Armani!”  
Huey spoke from across the room, “I think he wants you to follow him.”  
“Who do I look like, Roddy MacDowell? That’s the last Lassie movie I rent you, wolf!”  
Dief let go of Ray’s sleeve and barked, jerking his head towards the door.  
“What’s going on out here?” Welsh asked from the door of his office.  
“It’s the wolf, sir,” Huey said, as if that explained everything – which it probably did.  
Dief had grabbed Ray’s sleeve again. “Okay, okay, I’m coming,” Ray grumbled, “But this had better not be a trip to the doughnut shop!”  
“I’ll come with you.” Welsh said unexpectedly.

“I hope this is somewhere close – I’m not following the wolf all the way back to Fraser’s apartment,” Welsh puffed as they jogged after Diefenbaker. He and Ray were both having trouble keeping up with the agitated wolf. “Uh oh.” Welsh said, stopping as they saw Dief turn a corner a little further up the road.  
“What is it?” Ray asked.  
“That’s where the abduction took place.”  
Ray began to run, leaving Welsh behind, stopping when he reached the entrance to the alley. It was quite dark, with only a faint glow cast from the street lights on the road and nearby windows. Walking into the alley and peering into the gloom, Ray spotted Fraser’s Stetson lying on the ground towards the back of the area. Ray sucked in his breath, a sudden feeling of dread coming over him. The hat without the Mountie was never a good sign. Then he heard Dief bark, and saw the wolf sitting beside a prone form at the far end of the lane, partly behind one of the buildings. Ray felt as if his heart had jumped into his throat. This couldn’t be happening – Fraser lying unmoving on cold pavement was not an experience he wanted to relive, yet here he was. Running the rest of the way up the alley, he skidded to a halt beside Fraser. He could just make out his friend’s features, and even in the faint light he could tell the Mountie’s colour wasn’t good. Ray reached out a trembling hand to feel for a pulse. It took him a while to find, but eventually he felt a faint beat.  
He heard Welsh come up behind him as he was checking to find out where Fraser was injured. His hand found a wet, sticky patch on Fraser’s right side, towards the back. When he pulled his hand away he could see blood on his fingers – quite a lot of blood.  
“I’ll call an ambulance,” Welsh said.  
Ray felt in his pockets for a clean handkerchief and pressed it against the wound. The resulting pain must have roused the Mountie because he heard a faint sound from his patient, “It’s okay Benny. Everything’s going to be alright,” Ray tried to make his voice sound reassuring.  
Fraser tried to pull himself awake. He wasn’t sure where he was, but he was aware that he was lying on his stomach on a hard, damp surface, and he was in a lot of pain. He tried to open his eyes but darkness impinged on the edges of his vision, threatening to tug him back into oblivion. He could hear a voice – it sounded like Ray, but of course it couldn’t be. Ray hadn’t spoken to him in weeks. Still, he focussed on the sound and thought he made out, “Just hold on.” He tried to nod, didn’t know if he managed it, then blacked out again.

Ray paced the hospital waiting room. He’d ridden in the ambulance with Fraser, watching as the paramedic worked on the Mountie, trying to staunch the flow of blood from the knife wound. Upon arrival at the hospital they’d taken Fraser straight to surgery, but not before Ray had overheard conversations about blood loss, transfusions and lowering blood pressure.   
Ray felt overwhelmed by worry and guilt. He’d never forgive himself if Fraser died before he could make amends for his behaviour of two weeks before. One thing that finding Fraser bleeding copiously in the alley had done was to focus his mind, and now Ray knew that he didn’t want to lose the Mountie as his friend, and that he’d treated that friend very, very badly. Any residual anger had faded the instant he’d seen Fraser’s unconscious form. All thoughts of being somehow betrayed were also now forgotten – he just wanted Fraser to live, even if he had to listen to a thousand Inuit stories.   
It seemed an age before a doctor returned.  
“You came in with Mr Fraser?”  
“Yeah, how is he?”  
“Are you a relative?”  
“No, he doesn’t have any. Just tell me how he is!”  
The doctor decided that the man in front of him was likely to burst a blood vessel if he tried to push for giving information only to an authorised next of kin, “Well, it looks like a knife wound – it’s quite deep, but the weapon used was obviously very sharp, so the cut was clean. Your friend was lucky – the blade didn’t penetrate any vital organs, though he has lost a considerable amount of blood. We stopped the bleeding, and we’ll continue to compensate for the blood loss. We’re quite concerned about the possibility of infection, however, given the nature of the injury and the location where he was found, so he’s also being given anti-biotics.”  
“Is he going to be okay?”  
“I wouldn’t like to say at this stage, given the blood loss and associated trauma, though coming through the surgery without problems is a good sign. I suggest you go home and come back tomorrow. Visiting hours start at 2. If you leave your phone number with admissions, they’ll let you know if there’s any change in the meantime.”  
Ray thanked the doctor automatically, unable to shake a feeling of dread mixed with guilt.

The next morning found Ray at the Consulate with Detective Gage. Inspector Thatcher showed them to Fraser’s office.  
“I found these on the desk,” she said, indicating the witness statements and the maps Fraser had drawn of the crime scene. Ray looked at the drawings and then quickly scanned the witness statements.  
“Did you actually read these?” he asked Gage incredulously.  
“I glanced at them. I was going to look at them properly today,” the young detective replied.  
“You didn’t pick up that they didn’t match?”  
“Well, yeah, but it’s been so long since the kidnapping, and they were odd the first time too. I didn’t really think it was that relevant.”  
Ray glared at him. Then he sighed. Getting angry wouldn’t help – it certainly hadn’t last time. “Okay, we’re going to take these back to the crime scene and look at what Fraser was looking at. He obviously thought there was something there that needed checking, and he’s usually right about this stuff.”

Ray knocked on Welsh’s office door, “Can I have a word, sir?”  
“Certainly Detective. How’s Fraser?”  
“I rang the hospital earlier. They say…they say that the wound’s infected and he’s running a high fever.”   
Welsh nodded, noting Ray’s worried expression, “What can I do for you?”  
“Sir, I was going over the witness statements for the abduction with Gage - where did we get that idiot, by the way?”  
“Get to the point, Vecchio.”  
“It looks like there’s something funny going on. It’s pretty obvious neither of the witnesses actually saw the abduction. It’s like someone fed them the stories.”  
“You have evidence to back this up?”  
Ray showed Welsh the statements, plus the charts of the alley, along with another that Gage had drawn when they had checked the actual location.   
“What do we know about Dudley Finch?” Ray asked.  
“The woman’s husband? Not a lot. He and his wife came to Chicago a few years ago to start their own business. It hasn’t gone well – you probably noticed they didn’t live in the best area of town – but he’s never been in trouble with the police.”  
“I’d like to check further into this, Sir.”   
Welsh considered, “Is this some sort of guilt trip, Vecchio?”  
Ray hesitated, looking uncomfortable, “Uh, maybe, Sir.”  
“Alright. Do your investigation, but keep Gage in the loop. It’s meant to be his case after all.”  
“Thank you, Sir.”

Ray made it back to the hospital mid-afternoon. He spoke to the doctor again before going to Fraser’s room.  
“How come he’s got this infection?”  
“When I said the cut was clean, I meant it from the point of view of the knife being sharp, but the blade clearly wasn’t that clean in the dirt and bacteria sense. The area of the wound has become infected and it’s causing a high fever. He’s having periods of delirium – that can be a side effect of a very high temperature. We’ve upped the anti-biotics, and all we can do now is wait and see.”  
“Thanks, doc.”  
Ray braced himself as they went into the hospital room. A nurse was taking Fraser’s pulse. She marked the result on the chart at the foot of the bed.  
“Any change?” the doctor asked.  
“The vital signs are still the same I’m afraid doctor,” she answered.  
“Well, at least they’re no worse,” the doctor smiled reassuringly at Ray and left the room.  
“You wouldn’t be Ray, I suppose?” the nurse asked.  
Ray was surprised, “Yes, but…”  
“I can’t make out much of what he’s talking about when he’s delirious, but he does keep mentioning ‘Ray’.”  
“Oh.” Ray wasn’t sure that was a good thing.  
“I’ll leave you with him for a while. He’s conscious, if you want to talk to him, though it’s hard to be sure how much he understands of what’s going on around him at the moment.”  
Ray looked closely at the figure on the bed. The Mountie’s face was flushed with fever and covered with a fine sheen of sweat. His head was turning from side to side fitfully, his hands were picking at the sheets and he was muttering something unintelligible to himself. Ray sat down beside the bed.  
“Well, Benny, you’ve done it again, haven’t you? You should take better care of yourself you know. And you shouldn’t have been in that alley alone.” Ray snorted grimly, and added morosely, “Of course you wouldn’t have been in that alley alone if I hadn’t behaved like such a moron two weeks ago,” he paused to ponder that thought and then went on, “The only good thing that’s come out of this is that we’ve made some progress on the case. We think our Mr Finch owes money to somebody shady – if he couldn’t repay, that might have been a motive for the kidnapping.”   
Ray trailed off as Fraser’s mutterings became louder. He clearly heard his own name mentioned several times – sometimes with an ‘I’m sorry’ or ‘I don’t understand’ attached to it, which made him feel both sad and guilty at the same time. He also heard a couple of ‘Victoria’s and a ‘Dief’, but the Mountie seemed to be most troubled by Ray.   
After about half an hour, Fraser’s odd ramblings subsided and the Mountie appeared to fall asleep. He still didn’t look restful though, Ray noted. There was a frown line etched on his forehead, and his features were strained.   
The detective rose, “I have to go and find who did this to you, but I’ll be back tomorrow. Keep fighting, Benny.”

“Mrs Smith? I’m sorry to bother you again, but we have a few further questions about the kidnapping.” Detective Gage was aware of Ray glaring over his shoulder as he stood in the doorway of the apartment, speaking to one of the witnesses to the kidnapping.  
“Oh, erm, I’m a little busy right now…” the scruffy middle-aged woman facing them looked somewhat nervous.  
“This will only take a minute.” Ray said, stepping past Gage and into the apartment, without waiting to be invited.  
“Hey!” Mrs Smith protested.  
“Nice place.” Ray said, looking around at the outdated décor. He turned his attention to the woman in front of him, and ignored a very uncomfortable Gage behind him, “So, who put you up to it?”  
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”  
“Come on! Your flat is right at the front of the building.” Ray moved over to the window, “You can only see a small corner of the back of the alley. You couldn’t possibly know what happened.”  
The woman looked discomfited, “Well, I, um, saw her being put in a car.”  
“Maybe. But you also said you saw a man jump off a non-existent fire escape and accost the wife of one of your neighbours. I’m thinking you lied on your statement.”  
“No. Yes. No…..” the woman realised Ray wasn’t going to give up easily, “It was Dud Finch who put me up to it. He offered me money if I said I saw his wife being attacked at the back of the alley and taken away.”  
“How much?”  
“$1,000 – I banked the cheque today.”  
“Why did you wait so long? The kidnapping took place two weeks ago.”  
“He said the money wouldn’t be available until now.”  
“I doubt it will ever be available.”  
“What?”  
“You think someone who lives in this building would have $1,000 lying around? So, what did you actually see?”  
“Nothing. I didn’t see anything at all.”  
“Not even his wife being put in a car?” Ray didn’t sound in the least surprised.  
“No.”   
“Someone will be round to take another statement. We’ll see ourselves out.”

In the hall, Gage was surprised to see Ray approach a door towards the back of the building, “That’s not where the other witness lives.”  
“I know. I’m testing a theory.”  
Fifteen minutes later Ray’s theory became clear. Of those residents who would actually talk to them, almost all had been approached by Dudley Finch and offered money to say that they’d seen his wife attacked in the alley. Only two had taken the non-existent money.  
“They never said this when I first came round the building!” Gage protested.  
“I’m sure they didn’t, but you should have gone back when you realised the original statements didn’t match. Asked the right questions.” Ray was grim, “Come on. Time we paid Mr Finch a visit.”

Fraser could hear voices coming from somewhere, but his brain felt so foggy that he could barely make out what was being said. “….temperature is still high, but it’s coming down slowly…..keep monitoring every hour…no longer delirious….check in again later.” By the time he managed to push himself into something approaching full alertness there was only silence in the room. Blinking to clear his vision, he found himself staring at a beige ceiling. He felt weak, sluggish, and uncomfortably warm. Sniffing cautiously, he detected the odour of antiseptic, and realised that he must be in hospital. What had happened? Shifting slightly he felt a pain in his side. That was right – he’d been stabbed when he went to investigate the crime scene. Dief must have done what he asked and fetched help. He had a vague recollection of coming to in the alley and hearing someone speak to him. He’d thought it was Ray. Fraser smiled wryly at that. He’d obviously been so out of it that he’d imagined the person whose presence he would find most reassuring in those circumstances.  
Gingerly turning his head, he looked at his surroundings. He was alone in the room. When he’d woken up in hospital after Victoria, Ray had been sitting guiltily at his bedside. Not this time. Fraser felt a pang of loneliness.  
“You should be grateful you’re alive, son,” a voice said.  
Fraser turned his attention to the apparition standing at the foot of his bed, “Hello Dad. Timely as always.”   
“You shouldn’t have gone there alone after dark, you know,” Bob Fraser said in a scolding tone, “Not without letting someone know what you were planning. Don’t know what you were thinking.”   
“I was thinking about solving the case,” Fraser replied, irritated, partly because his father was right.  
“Not much point solving the case if you’d bled to death in that alley.”  
“Well, I didn’t. I’m here. Alive.”  
“Stop moping then! Feeling sorry for yourself won’t get you anywhere.”  
“I’m not moping.” Fraser heard a movement in the doorway.  
“Oops, better go son, an angel of mercy approaches.”   
Fraser watched his father walk towards the door and tip his hat to the nurse who was just entering. She was, of course, completely oblivious to the presence of the ghost.  
The nurse smiled at Fraser as she approached the bed, “Back with us?” she said, and without waiting for an answer stuck a thermometer under his tongue, “We’ve been quite worried about you, but it looks like you’re on the mend now.” She took his pulse, and checked the thermometer, “Mmm.” She muttered cryptically and made a note on his chart, “Do you remember what happened?”  
“Yes, I was stabbed.”  
“That’s right, and can you tell me your name?”  
“Benton Fraser.”  
“And who do you work for?”  
“I’m a Constable in the Royal Canadian Mounted Police. I’m currently stationed at the Canadian Consulate as Deputy Liaison Officer.”  
“That’s quite a long explanation. Well Benton, you’re obviously tired, so I’m going to let you rest now. The buzzer is here if you need anything. And don’t worry. You’re going to be fine.”  
“Thank you.”  
“You’re welcome. Can I get you anything now?”  
“No, thank you. Not at the moment.”  
“Okay. Visiting hours start in about an hour. Maybe someone will come and see you.”  
Fraser managed to give her a slight smile, but he didn’t want to say that he thought that the chances of him receiving a visitor were slim.

Ray and Gage were standing in Dudley Finch’s apartment. Ray was curious – it felt very cold in the flat. The heating obviously wasn’t on, and the windows were open, despite the chilliness of the weather. There was also a sickly sweet smell of air freshener hanging in the atmosphere.   
The shabby and unkempt man in front of him was showing all the signs of extreme anxiety, but not the right type of anxiety for someone whose wife had been abducted. He was shifting his weight from foot to foot and kept glancing around the room – looking anywhere but at the detectives. He seemed to be particularly distracted by the presence of Diefenbaker, who had accompanied the detectives on their mission and was now wandering around the room, sniffing the floor and furniture.   
Ray decided to be direct, “So, Mr Finch, why did you pay your neighbours to say they had seen your wife being abducted?”  
“I beg your pardon?” Finch had blanched white, but was clearly trying to bluster.  
“The two witnesses have admitted they saw nothing, and that you gave them cheques for $1,000 to say they saw your wife being attacked and kidnapped. One of them is pretty angry that the cheque bounced. And several of your other neighbours claim you approached them with similar offers.”  
The three men were distracted by a bark from Diefenbaker. They all looked up to see the wolf in the kitchen area of the apartment, standing on his hind legs pawing at a large freezer chest.  
Dudley Finch suddenly bolted for the door, but was caught by Gage before he could make it. They fell to the floor together, Gage holding the other man down.  
“Let’s see what we have here, then.” Ray said, striding over to the freezer chest, “What have you found Dief? Oh my god…” Ray swallowed hard as he looked inside the freezer.  
“What is it?” Gage asked.  
“It’s a body.” Ray replied grimly, closing the lid again so he wouldn’t have to look. He turned back to the living room. “Cuff him and read him his rights,” he ordered Gage.  
The young detective did as he was told and then sat their prisoner on the couch.  
“I didn’t mean to do it!” Finch wailed, “We were arguing, I pushed her, she fell and hit her head. I didn’t mean to kill her! Honest.”  
“So you stuffed her in the freezer?” Gage asked incredulously, then added, “Erm, do you want a lawyer before you say anything?”   
Ray glared at him.  
Finch began to cry, “I didn’t know what to do…I’d borrowed money to keep my business afloat – more than I could possibly repay. I can’t afford to stop working – if I went to prison I’d have lost the business completely, and I’d probably be killed by the money lenders. The debt collectors came by just after…after she…after it happened. She was just lying there on the carpet. I was distraught. They told me to put her in there and say she was kidnapped. I thought if I could get the neighbours to say they’d seen what happened it would help my story.”  
“So what happened two nights ago?”  
“The three debt collectors came to remove the body. They said they knew where to put it so nobody would find it. Then I saw the Mountie prowling around outside. I knew who he was because he’d come to see me after it first happened. I guessed he wouldn’t be in the alley if he didn’t think he’d found something. Sid said they’d take care of him – but I’d owe them more money, and I’d have to keep the body for another few days.”  
“Names!” Ray demanded.  
“Sid and Andy! I only know them as Sid and Andy!”   
“You said there were three of them,” Ray was relentless.  
“I don’t know the other guy’s name.”  
“And who did they work for?”  
“There’s a business card next to the phone. That’s the money lenders.” Finch was sobbing now, “I’m going to go to prison, aren’t I?”  
“That’s for a jury to decide. At the very least you’ll be charged with manslaughter over the death of your wife.”  
“They’ll have me killed.”  
Ray wasn’t in a sympathetic mood. He picked up the business card by the phone. The name on it was familiar to him as a company that specialised in money loans, accompanied by violence when the client couldn’t repay. The police had never been able to nail them for anything though, as the victims were always too scared to testify. Ray pulled out his cell phone and called the precinct, asking for more officers and a forensics team.

Fraser awoke to see bright sunshine streaming into the room. It must be mid-afternoon. He turned his head to look towards the window and was startled to see someone sitting in the chair next to his bed - a familiar figure dressed in Armani, who appeared to be dozing. “Ray?” Fraser queried incredulously.  
Ray started awake, and gave a relieved smile at the sight of his friend’s anxious face, “Hey Benny. How do you feel?”  
“Uh – I’m okay.” How did he feel? Surprised mostly, and puzzled as well. Why was Ray here? Ray wasn’t talking to him.  
Ray grinned, “Only you would say you were okay when you’re lying flat on your back in a hospital bed looking pale as a ghost.”  
“Ray, I thought – that is, I mean, I’m pleased to see you, Ray, but…” Fraser trailed off, unsure how to frame the question that was in his mind.  
Ray turned serious, “Why am I here after treating you like dirt?”  
“Well…I wouldn’t put it quite like…yes.”  
“I’m sorry Benny. I really don’t know what came over me that day. I was wrong – I was trying to blame you for something I already knew was an accident. Irene’s funeral just made me crazy I guess, and I took it out on you. I should have apologised to you earlier, but I thought I was doing the right thing by waiting until….well, I don’t really know what I was waiting until. Then it seemed like I’d left it too long. Things kind of got out of hand. Can you forgive me?”  
“Of course, Ray.”  
Ray looked keenly at the Mountie, “You forgive far too easily,” he said.  
“Perhaps. But you’re my friend, Ray….We are still friends, aren’t we?” The worried look on Fraser’s face made Ray feel even worse than he already did.  
“Yeah. We’re still friends, Benny. And, uh, what I said about you owing me…” Ray noticed that Fraser looked suddenly even more apprehensive, “Well, forget about it.”  
“I’m sorry, Ray, if I’d realised that was how you felt, I, well…”  
“You wouldn’t have behaved any differently. And I wouldn’t have wanted you to.”  
“I just didn’t think that…”  
“Benny, forget it. I mean it.”  
They were interrupted by the ringing of Ray’s cell phone. Fraser raised his eyebrows – he was pretty sure you were meant to turn cell phones off in hospitals. He listened to Ray’s side of the conversation.  
“Vecchio….yeah. You got them? That’s great news, Jack….Are they talking?....Well, is there any forensic?...Okay, I understand. I’ll see if Fraser can give us a description…yeah, the doctors say he’s going to be fine.” Ray ended the call and put the phone away. He turned back to Fraser, “We got the people who put you here,” he said, “But we’re not sure we can make the charges stick. They’re not playing ball, and the evidence is mainly circumstantial.”  
“I can describe two of the men with reasonable accuracy, Ray, but the other I only saw briefly from behind when Dief was chasing him.”  
“That may be enough, Benny. If you can describe two of them, one of them might rat out the third. I’ll take a statement from you before I go back to the station.”  
“Has there been any progress on the kidnapping?”  
Fraser was surprised when Ray laughed grimly, “There was no kidnapping.”  
Fraser frowned, “I don’t understand.”  
“Hope you’re comfortable ‘cos I’ve got a story to tell you!”

Ray hovered anxiously as Fraser climbed the stairs to his apartment. As they approached the last flight Ray noticed that his friend was starting to flag, slowing down and gripping the handrail tighter than normal. The Mountie was still a little weak from the stabbing, but the doctors had assured Ray that, following his week in hospital, another week’s rest at home would see him right. The problem, as Ray saw it, would be getting Fraser to actually rest. He would probably find some neighbourhood project to get involved with rather than relaxing. “Don’t suppose there’s any chance of the new landlord fixing the elevator,” Ray grumbled.  
“New landlord?” Fraser questioned.  
“Oh yeah, didn’t I tell you? Your building’s being sold.”  
“Oh. Well that can only be good news.”  
“Yeah, with any luck they’ll rip it down.”  
Fraser was about to remind Ray that people would be homeless if that happened, but then he saw his friend’s face and decided he’d better change the subject, “How is your hunt for a new car coming?”  
Ray brightened, “Oh, my mechanic thinks he’s found me another Riv. It’ll probably be a week or so yet before he can actually get the car, but if you feel up to it you’ll have to come and look it over for me. See if we can drive the price down a bit.” Ray pushed open the door to apartment 3J.  
“I would be happy to be of assistance to you, Ray.” Fraser said, as he was greeted by Diefenbaker, whose tail was wagging happily at the sight of his two main sources of food. Fraser bent to pat the wolf.  
“Good. Between your eye for detail and my bargaining skills, I should get a good deal.”  
Fraser straightened and Ray saw him wince and pale slightly. Noticing Ray’s concerned expression, he reassured his friend, “I’m alright, Ray.”  
Ray forced himself not to fuss too much, “Sit down before you fall down, and I’ll make us some coffee.”  
Fraser did as he was told. Much as he hated to admit it, he was feeling tired, “Ray,” he said, “Thank you.”  
Ray was puzzled, “What for?”  
“For being my friend.”  
Ray felt suddenly uncomfortable, “No, thank you, Benny….I’m glad I didn’t lose your friendship just because I behaved like an idiot.”  
“There was a time when I might have said the same thing to you, Ray.”  
Ray looked keenly at the Mountie, then grinned, “I guess it must be ‘Even Steven’ then, Benny.”  
“I was told by a reliable source that nobody said that anymore, Ray. Apparently it’s juvenile.” Ray swore he could see a small smile quirk the corner of Fraser’s lips.   
“Oh dear,” Ray replied.

THE END


End file.
